You Must Quest for Them
by stowfords
Summary: One-Short, Albus Dumbledore was a great man, one who was so close to his dream, eternal greatness awaited him; his quest was almost over. It was funny he would of said, how in one second of recklessness, he destroyed over one hundred years of hard work.


I own nothing honest.

You Must Quest For It

Slowly he reached out, his fingers brushing over the top of the ring again. The large emerald stone seemingly shining, in the darkness of the room with some kind of ethereal light that seemed to pull all attention onto its self. He snapping his hand away quickly before he lost control of himself.

"Oh Tom, what have you done." He spoke to himself. His voice echoing softly around the still and darkened room. Moving his wand in a complex pattern around the ring set on stone plinth in the centre of the room. The ring, a Horcrux no doubt, seemed to be set in place by from what he could tell was either a long forgotten ritual or some form of bastardised binding spell. It was something else though that bothered him though...

That stone which had seemed to glow, it had faded again. As he moved his wand closer though that same ethereal glow returned, could it be that it was reacting to his wand? More importantly than that, reacting to the Deathstick? Legends spoke of the deathly hallows reacting to one another, could it be that after fifty more years of searching after retrieving the Deathstick, the stone of resurrection had finally been found? It couldn't be possible, could it?

Without thinking his hand shot out; fingers grasping hungrily at the stone. 'All this time, all this time over one hundred years of searching, his eyes closed reverently he had done it he...PAIN, unimaginable pain; like fire coursing through his very blood

Looking down he could see the true extent of his folly. The ring nestled snugly, shimmering eerily on his rapidly darkening finger. How could he have been such a fool? He letting out a slow long breath from between pursed lips using it to focus his mind, and mastering the pain, it worked as it always did. Allowing him to take in and evaluate everything around him, just as Nickolas had instructed him to do, all those long years ago.

The Horcrux, was draining the very life force from his body it seemed, old magic, soul magic. Something, unfortunately now it seemed, he had never bothered to study in anymore than a customary glance anyway. Soul magic was for those that feared death, and why would he fear death? When soon he would forever be its master. None the less as the darkening skin grew, encompassing his whole hand he felt fear; a fear for himself though, not for others, it was something that had become an almost alien concept, it had been so long since that day.

_-----------_

"_Come on Albus... join me, look at what I have accomplished alone. Together, together for the greater good we could accomplish anything. Even find the rest of the Hallows."_

_For the first time since they had first locked wands five minutes ago, he spoke._

"_Rest of the Hallows?" his voice sounding hollow, holding back all the conflicting emotions he felt for this evil man, who was so very much like himself._

"_Gil, what do you mean?" Grindelwald smiled at him, a true smile one that took him back all those years to a happier time of a summer past, in Godric's hollow._

"_Abe my friend, you cannot win, you face not only me but the power of the Deathstick as well." With those words youngish Albus__ Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore felt true fear, no, not the fear for the wand, no, it was beyond that, it was so much more. It was the fear of realization, if he wanted to live his dream, to become the one true master of death he would have to kill._

_To kill the man he loved._

------------

With a sharp intake of breath he focused, the swarming mass of thoughts and memories assaulting his mind again fading away. He loosely wondered if these flashes of memory were indicating he was going to die, here, alone in this shack. If so, he mused to himself, he wished he had one of Ariana, it had been so long now, and even her face had begun to fade from memory.

A flash of pain in his wrist snapped his focus back to where it should be. It was quite simple really to stop the curse at the moment; all he had to do was destroy the Horcrux. He shook his head, for all 115 years on this earth he had never found any text pertaining to the destruction a Horcrux, and in and what he thought a delightful twist of irony. It seemed that just about the only time you would actually want a basilisk around; there was quite typically, none to be found. Another problem sprang to mind, he happened to be in the most unfortunate circumstance of actually wearing the ring, cutting off the option of nearly every spell he could think of off the top of head.

"Oh well" he muttered to himself "I guess I have no choice and I can always grow another one." Flicking his wand; one such as him did not need movement or words, not for a simple cutting spell anyway. A sickly pale spell sprang forth from his wand, heading for his elbow just above where the curse had spread to. Just as he was just about to follow it up with a flame curse; to seal the wound.

When something quite unexpected happened, a clang of metal; as if striking a sword on to shield rang out.

'Oh dear', he thought 'Oh dear in deed' now, this was slightly more troubling. Sucking in a deep breath he forced all of his rather impressive mental faculties onto the task of, well, getting that blasted ring off his finger. He noticed after a moment, quite dispassionately mind you, that the curse had sped up in its advance. It was already up past his elbow, whether because of the spell he cast or because like bacteria; the larger it got the quicker it could spread he didn't know, quite frankly at the moment for once, he didn't really care.

'Well' he thought absently, the biting pain having made its way up to his bicep by now. I had rather hoped I would go out in a brilliant and glorious battle; not that battle is either, but as the one that controls the Deathstick, it would be a fitting end for me. Once his shoulder was infected he knew it was over and it wouldn't be too long now.

"Alas" he muttered allowed, it seemed there really was no solution this time; it was time to finally make his peace.

With a sudden screech and burst of flame fawkes appeared before him. As if to say goodbye seemed to flash through his mind, his head dropping momentarily only for it to snap back up, the sound of phoenix song ringing in his ears, he almost chuckled, as it all became so clear.

Tom, yes he was a cunning one, a true Slytherin if ever there was one. To think something was so deadly that it wouldn't need to have another spell mixed into it, what a fool he had been. His mind was once again clear of that clawing doubt which had been plaguing him in seemingly his last moments on this earth. 'That spell, when it hit, what kind of shield would make that sound like a sword on a ...'

The flash and slight smell of sulphur that invaded his nose told him all he needed to know, fawalkes knew what was needed, it would be a shame to damage the stone he thought. It would be far too troublesome though to hit the ring and end up nicking his skin, poisoning himself in the process.

In a flash of flame the sword was in his hand, coming down upon the ring.

Woomh!

The flash of magic and discharge through him clear across the room. He could feel the curse grind to a halt, as the power flowing into it from the Horcrux ceased to be. Letting out a long sigh he looked down at the resurrection stone, could he now, after all this time do it. With the wand and stone in his hands and only needing to reach out to take the cloak, which was within his grasp. To be the master of death, the lord of the Deathly Hallows. Then he felt it, the curse, it was still growing; It had drawn in enough of his life force it seemed to be self sustaining, there was nothing he could do. He would die.

After all these years, with deaths mastery so close, what sweet irony it was. He was going to die and nothing could stop that now. A smile fell onto his face; he would be seeing Ariana again soon, a few months from now if his quick basic calculations were right, he knew they would be. He could wait though, after all what are a few months in 115 years of life, nothing, nothing but a blink of an eye. In this small amount of time he had left though there was much to do, maybe he could find someone else. Someone unlike him, someone worthy of being the master of death, it wouldn't be easy of course, his smile widened; after all you have to quest, if you wish to be the master of the Deathly Hallows.

Right, I know I haven't posted on first steps for ages but this has got me back in the mood. I always wondered why Dumbledore never became the Master of Death with the Hallows when he had access to them all so this kind of came to me as I wrote. Let me know what you think because cannon's explanation of his end kind of sucked it's kind of below.

Cannonish version

"Oh look what a lovely ring, what it reeks of evil; I had best not put it on then" Dumbledore walks down the road. "What have I got in my pocket?"

Snape suddenly appears "Thats not a riddle. Not fair! Not fair! It isn't far, my precious, is it, to ask us what's he gots in his nasty little pockets"

"Er ok, your right, it's not a riddle. Oh a nice ring" slips it on his finger and his arm suddenly goes black and shrivelled. "Bugger me, how could I, the only person in the books who the author seemed to make smarter than Hermione be killed by being a retard - fantastic" I know, it just doesn't make sense does it but wait, it's not over.

"Don't worry, look, I can keep you alive; but can't really cure you and you will be dead in a year but don't go and ask anyone else who might be able to help ok. This will prove to everyone how good I am after I kill you Ha Ha Ha Ha. Oh, and I did it all because I loved your mum Harry"

Honestly it's the stuff of nightmares


End file.
